Yuletide
by jae-vous
Summary: Tony, Ziva, and twenty-five days.
1. A

_**A little drabble series in honor of december to countdown the 25 days of christmas. I don't have time for much right now, but I wanted to do something special. Enjoy :o)**_

_**jae**_

* * *

**Aunts**

He's finally settled on the week's ESPN highlights when he hears her re-enter her apartment, her footsteps growing louder as she makes her way down the hall.

"Tony," she calls from the entrance of her living room, and he fumbles for the remote beside him on her couch, silencing another holiday commercial and turning to look over his shoulder at her. She's brushing her thumb across the address on top of a colorful package, a small frown pulling at her mouth, and her eyebrows knit together as she reads it carefully.

"What's up?"

She lifts her face to meet his.

"_Borriello, Donatella,_" She says carefully as she looks down to glance once more at the elegant script. The name stirs something in her memory. "Is that not your -"

"Aunt Di," Tony grins, setting down his beer on her coffee table and getting up to come stand before her. He takes the package from her hands, scrutinizing the name and address.

"Ah, good, she got your name right." He hands her back the package, smiling easily despite her bewildered expression.

"What is this?"

He chuckles, his eyes bright as he taps the box with his finger.

"Aunt Di's Christmas Pizelles."

She frowns.

"But why did I receive them?"

Tony's expression grows softer, and a small smile pulls at the corner of his mouth.

"It's just her way of saying she approves of you, sweet cheeks."

Ziva's confusion slowly fades, and she drops her head to the side as her eyes warm.

"I have been approved?"

He chuckles again, stepping closer, and she breathes a laugh as one of his hands snakes across her hip and the other glides up her back.

"Oh, yeah." He murmurs, smiling down at her pursed lips. "You're in with Aunt Di, you've got the seal of approval."

Ziva regards him, her expression as playful as she gets, but it doesn't hide the surprise that creeps onto her face.

"You talk to your aunts about me?"

He captures her lips then, kissing her deeply.

"You've been mentioned once or twice."

"Why?"

Her eyes search his, warm and familiar, and he loves that he can bring that look of wonderment to them.

"Because I'm their family. And you're mine."


	2. B

**Baile**

She moves like a hurricane around the space of his kitchen, but not in a destructive, deadly way. She's a flurry of motion, yes, but her movement is fast, rhymthic, trapezing gracefully from one project to the next. She has commandeered his kitchen, preparing a meal that promises a merry team dinner, indeed. Christmas Eve will bring them all together that evening, and she intends to deliver a meal that will be worthy of the occasion.

When she arrives baring armfuls of groceries and supplies, he leaves her to her work with a wink, excusing himself briefly to shower and dress before the troops arrive later. It's when he's pulling his shirt over his damp hair that he hears the familiar tempo of a spanish classic. It's one of his favorite things about her that he's discovered; she never cooks without a tune.

He enters the kitchen, and her body moves with the beat as she travels from the stove to the counter; the pantry to his fridge. She's humming softly as the chorus picks up again, and she looks up quickly when he croons the well known verse, announcing his presence.

She laughs, her true smile being freed as he makes his way toward her. She pauses over the bowl she stands over stirring, putting down her wooden spoon as he steps closer to capture her hand in his and snake an arm around her waist.

"_Baila me_," he echoes the song, and she allows him to sweep her into his arms as the Gypsy Kings lead them in a dance around simmering pots and abandoned ingredients.

She humors him, taking her eyes off the task at hand, and settles closer to his body so she can feel him humming along to the song, her cheek pressed against his warm chest.

She has her favorite things about him, too, that she's discovered. He enjoys watching her, that she has known. But he also enjoys participating, bringing spontaneity to ordinary tasks.

And as he twirls her around, dipping her back on the last, punctuating note of the song, they both are reminded how they are so very grateful for each other.


	3. C

**Claus**

* * *

His eyes watch his partner as she exits the dark kitchen after Gibbs, making her way towards him carefully. Ziva balances a full glass of wine in her hand while deftly weaving between Abby and Amira on the floor.

She purses her lips as she reaches the couch; every seat occupied, and when her eyes meet his they brighten mischeviously.

"Is there room on your lap, Santa?"

Tony rubs thoughtfully at the fake beard around his chin, letting out a hearty laugh he had been bellowing the entirety of the day, impersonating one Saint Nick for Amira's amusement.

"There's always room for you, Ms. David."

Gibbs' exasperated sigh from across the room doesn't dim the intimate smile she gives him, and she takes the last few steps towards him before settling comfortably in his lap. His arms wrap around her easily, his hand coming to trail up and down her back as they turn their attention towards Ducky sitting before the fire, and with everyone now in attendance, the tradional retelling of a Christmas classic begins.

Halfway through the tale, Amira finds her way off the floor, settled against her mother, and her eyes filter toward Tony and Ziva each time he interjects with his Claus impersonation and Ziva dissolves into quiet laughter.

Their whispering doesn't draw steely glances from Gibbs, nor looks of annoyance from the others. Today, there is tolerance. But as their lips meet at the end of the doctor's monologue, Amira turns shocked eyes toward her mother.

"Mommy, why is Santa Claus kissing Aunt Ziva?"

Ziva breaks away from her partner's lips as he tries to straighten his discheveled beard, and quiet laughter fills the room.

Unperturbed, Tony tightens his arms around her, bringing her closer to his chest and looks at Amira over his costume spectacles.

"Your Aunt Ziva was _very_ good this year," He rumbles, tugging at Ziva's loose curls, and Ziva's blush, if possible, deepens more. The laughter of the others raises as her hand disappears in the folds of his red coat, and he makes a loud noise in protest. She smirks in satisfaction as he rubs at a spot high on his chest, as if wounded.

Amira's face remains bewildered, but she doesn't question further, watching as Ziva leans in to press her lips to Tony's once more off his hurt look. She pulls back to give him an easy smile, and straightens his red hat affectionately, and he knows all is forgiven.

Later, as everyone's attention wanes from the couple, they go back to conversing lowly.

"Do you think, perhaps, you may keep this suit for a while longer?"

She tugs at his beard, about as playful as she gets, appraising him with raised eyebrows.

A smirk pulls at the corner of his mouth, and he leans in to murmur quietly against her ear.

"Well, since you were on the nice list this year, I think we can work something out."


	4. D

**Dreidel**

* * *

It is he who offers to clean up after dinner; the residual euphoria of being released early from headquarters, on a friday night no less, buoys his mood even hours later, and he shoos her off with a wink and a quick kiss to both their cheeks. They disappear from the table in a sweep of her curls, and from the kitchen he can hear the familiar sound of bath time and warm laughter carry down the hall.

With the last dish scrubbed and placed in its home among the cabinets, he sweeps his hand across the light switch with a flip of his thumb, and follows the low voices that resound from far off in their home. The lights of the menorah on the surface of the windowsill help guide him through the otherwise darkened living room, and he frowns as he passes through the empty room where he expected to find the pair he seeks.

The hall to their bedroom is darker without the light of the flickering candles, but the growing sound of a soft melody catches his ears as he approaches the last room on the right. He pauses outside the cracked door, where light filters out underneath the gap, and when the soft voice begins to sing again, he pushes open the door soundlessly.

Her back is to him from where she sits upon the hardwood floor besides the armoire GIbbs had fashioned for them, more so her, in his very basement.

A familiar chest sits open beside them, one Ziva's had for as long as he can remember. He cannot see the contents of it from where he stands, nor has he ever peeked, but when he spies the spinning dreidel their daughter watches with eyes mesmerized, he reasons the treasure came from within its depths.

He recognizes the throaty accent of her hebrew, and while he's heard her sing several foreign lullabies that he can proudly recognize, this particular song isn't familiar, nor one he thinks he's ever heard before. But it still makes him smile, and his chest grows even warmer at the laughter it elicits from their daughter as her tiny hands make to grab for the object.

_"Sevivon, sov, sov, sov."_

Their daughter manages to bring her small hand down swiftly on the dreidel at last, releasing an unintelligible sound of surprise that finally causes him to chuckle aloud. The baby girl's exclamation brings Ziva's song to a halt, and once she hears Tony's chuckle she turns swiftly to look at him over her shoulder.

A warm smile spreads across her face as she reaches out to gather their daughter in her arms without tearing her gaze away. The baby's small hands fumble with the object and her attention doesn't falter even as Ziva brushes a hand through her soft hair.

"Playing games without me?" Tony finally pushes off from the doorframe and comes to crouch besides the pair. Their daughter looks up then as Ziva laughs, and with her father's eyes on her, she immediately thrusts the dreidel toward him, gurgling brightly.

"Would you like to show your father how we play?" Ziva leans down to brush a kiss against the baby's cheek, and looks up to motion to Tony to take the dreidel from her grasp.

Tony's answering smile is all kinds of brilliant as he takes the old, wooden dreidel, lowering it the floor with a quick look from Ziva. She nods, eyes bright, and as he twists the top to spin it across the floor, Ziva's enigmatic smile reigns free, and her melodic song begins once more.


	5. E

_**There's an outtake for this one, I may post that and any others at the end of this once the countdown is finished.**_

_**Thank you for everyone that has reviewed - seriously, they make my day.**_

_**jae**_

* * *

**Emerald**

* * *

He has the holiday season to thank for the color she arrives in that night, and he sends a silent prayer of gratitude to every deity he knows that emerald is the color of the season.

He's seen her in the radiant color once before in his memory; that time stirs a tidal wave of emotions that overwhelm him to this day. He remembers the feel of the silk against her body, the heat of the material that radiated from the fire that was her skin. He can recall the way it made her eyes seem even warmer, her wild curls nuclear, and he would swear that the color was created solely for the purpose of her existence.

A hush falls over the crowd of agents, all gathered together for their annual Christmas banquet. Knowing looks are exchanged between colleagues and friends alike as she makes her way toward him across the floor. His attention doesn't catch the reactions of the room at large, however.

He only has eyes for her.

His eyes rake over the emerald dress that flows over her body, highlighting the curves and bare, golden skin he'll explore with greater detail in private when they take their leave that evening; leisurely, intensely, and with great enthusiasm.

Ducky captures her attention several feet from where he stands, and when she turns to greet him he discovers that the dress leaves little to the imagination when it comes to the expanse of her back and the delicate, graceful curve of her spine.

He has to loosen the tie around his neck before he picks up their drinks and meets her halfway in the middle of the ballroom. She's still smiling as she turns away from Ducky's retreating back, and one sweeping look over his body is all it takes for him to blush.

"About time you arrive," He murmurs, holding out a champagne flute that she takes daintily. A blush of her own creeps across her neck, a deep red that contrasts magnificently with her emerald dress.

They each raise their glasses, an intimate look exchanged, and she hides her smile behind the rim of the crystal.

And he thinks, not for the first time that night, that the holiday colors look so very well on her, indeed.


	6. F

**Flight**

* * *

There are few places he can think of off the top of his head that he'd be less inclined to be than the airport two days before Christmas.

He takes another sip of coffee from one of the cups in his hands, and shuffles closer to the giant Christmas tree erected in the terminal of Reagan National Airport as a family of six fly by wielding rolling luggage and a screaming infant. Another inclement weather alert sounds over the large atrium, and for what seems like the hundredth time since he'd arrive well over an hour ago, he's informed once more of what he already knows. The winter storm of the century has arrived and very well begun, and airport staff and security urge prospective flyers and travelers to seek a place for the night, and quickly.

He sighs as he takes another sip of coffee, having long since accepted his fate of being a victim to the bumper to bumper traffic that is surely building up along highways and freeways.

But as a loud voice from the gate he stands vigil beside announces the arrival of the anticipated flight, he's reminded why he has decided to brave the harrows of furious weather and the impacted district traffic, and the crowds of impatient, pushy travelers on the eve of the Christmas holidays.

He spots her straight away as she exits behind a fierce looking business woman, already on her phone and cutting short, brief commands across the line. Ziva eyes the woman warily as she attempts to step around her, and her eyes find his as soon as she fumbles for her bag around the suitcase and backpack slung over her shoulders.

Her eyes brighten in complete and utter surprise, and that look is all it takes to bring the first smile to his face of the evening as he flashes her a winning grin, maneuvering around the swarm of waiting families to navigate his way toward her.

"Tony," and he doesn't think he imagines the tone of affection that creeps into her voice as her lips curve in the rare smile he so often chases. With that, he can't help but lean in impulsively to kiss her cheek, and before she has time to register the gesture, he's grinning back at her, pressing the second coffee cup in his possession into her glove covered hand.

"Welcome back," He laughs as her face contorts into perfect confusion, trading glances between the coffee that warms her hand and his presence before her.

"Thank you…." She replies hesitantly, frowning as he moves to take her bags from her shoulder, being careful to mind the curls that try to tangle under the straps. He heaves them over his own shoulder successfully, and draws a light hand down her back to guide her out of the fray of the crowded terminal.

"What are you doing here?" Ziva jogs to keep up as Tony makes a sudden turn down a less crowded hall, his attention on the signs that direct them toward a lower level parking garage.

"Tony, how long have you been here?" She doesn't give him a chance to respond, frowning instead as she notices the signs. "You parked. In a garage."

They finally come to a stop beside an elevator, and Tony reluctantly drops his hand from the small of her back as he turns to face her, a little breathless from hustling across the airport.

He flounders around for words, gesturing with his hands in front of him and adjusts the strap of her bag once more over his shoulder. His face tenses as if he was now questioning his decision to come retrieve her, and she recognizes his discomfort for what it is as he tries to backpedal.

"Well I knew you were probably going to try to get a cab, and at this time of year you would have been here for ages." He rolls his eyes in exaggeration. "And there's a storm hitting us, as you can see, so I left the office a little early, had McGee do his thing to find your flight, no big deal." he explains, nonchalant, and takes a breath and shoots her an easy smile. "Easier than dealing with traffic and rushing to find you before you got lost in this mess."

Ziva's eyes soften as he shrugs ever so casually, and she drops her head head to the side, regarding him fondly for several moments in silence.

"I did not ask you to do that for me." She finally murmurs, not unkindly. "Or to get me coffee. Or carry my bags." She smiles, though, to convey her gratitude, and takes a sip to hide the blush she feels beginning to warm her cheeks.

Tony's face relaxes at her assurance, and he hits the elevator button as his eyes travel over her warmly.

"Well what kind of partner would I be if I let you take a cab home?"

She laughs lightly, and cautiously reaches for his hand, intertwining their fingers before giving him a gentle squeeze.

"Thank you," She murmurs sincerely, holding his gaze until his grin settles across his face, and then releases his hand to move closer to him.

He wraps an arm around her waist as the elevator dings before them, and they step into the metal box, christmas music echoing within the steel walls around them.

"Hey, it's Christmas." Tony squeezes her hip, and looks down at her warm grin. "And that's what partners are for."

She takes another sip of coffee, diverting her eyes and hiding a secret smile. Although she watched their city come into focus high above, it's only now being received by her partner's warm welcome and his ever faithful presence that she finally feels at home.


	7. G

**_This one also had an outtake. It's hard to choose only one word to go with for some of these._**

**_jae_**

* * *

**Gamble**

The move he intends to make becomes alarmingly real when it comes down to the final days.

He doesn't think she suspects; and he quite likes it that way.

He's always enjoyed being able to surprise her.

And while he's never been more committed to a decision, except maybe when it finally came down to at last, giving in to her, he's a body full of nerves the day Hanukkah arrives and the countdown begins.

The ring box feels heavy in his jacket pocket as he watches her move gracefully around their apartment; her dress flowing around her knees while she dances across the room, turning off lights and gathering up her things. Soon the only light coming from the room is the glow of the fully lit menorah, and the eight flickering flames remind him of the final gift he intends to give her tonight; if only she chooses to accept.

He smiles and nods as she continues to relay their reservation times, what the traffic might be like, and what route to take to avoid it. She strides forward to slide into the coat he holds out waiting for her, and she works on the buttons with nimble fingers as he carefully untangles her hair from its collar.

She says something he doesn't quite register, leaning in softly to kiss his cheek, and leads him toward the front door while adjusting her handbag over her shoulder.

As they walk down the hall, his hand absently reaches for hers; curling around her fingers, and it causes her to pause, only momentarily, in the conversation she is having more with herself than him. He simply smiles at her puzzled look, for holding hands isn't a gesture they do often, but his self-control slips for the moment in anticipation of what he will soon do. Her confusion fades away as her eyes regard him, and they warm at something she sees flicker on his face. His grip tightens over hers, and she gives him the smallest of smiles in return before beginning her train of thought again. He slowly traces his thumb over each of her delicate fingers as she speaks, and he feels his skin warm where the ring box rests against his chest.

Tonight, he'll make a gamble, one he hopes will set him up for life.

And if it goes accordingly, he will get a ring on the very hand that's intertwined with his.


	8. H

**_Apologies for the confusing pronouns. That's what I get when I shy away from naming the AU child._**

**_jae_**

* * *

**Hanukkah**

He waits with the patience that doesn't become a typical six year old little boy, and surely he doesn't inherit this from him.

He is her in so many more ways, but this has never troubled nor hurt him. She's in his quiet, thoughtful expression, his golden skin, his careful smile, his patient nature. His untidy hair may be his own light color, but it's unruly, curly state is all her.

And the look of blatant adoration he regards her with now, as he settles beside her in earnest to watch her set up the menorah, is the kind of heart-stopping look of unconditional love he himself has only been privileged to for the better half of the years he's known her, a look she doesn't reveal freely.

He emulates her in so many ways, and no, he wouldn't change it even if he could.

Ziva's hands aren't idle as she sets the menorah on the sill of the window, righting the candles with careful concentration and a secret smile pulling at her lips. For so long she had no tie to this part of herself, no connection to her heritage, her home, a lifetime that feels absolutely separate from the life she lives now. But now, she has someone to share it with.

The little boy is far too engrossed with watching her; misses the fleeting looks she bestows on him, the way her eyes warm with utter affection at his bright anticipation.

He gets up from his seat on their lounge chair, twirling the matchbook between his fingers as he crouches down beside the pair, and Ziva pulls her hands away from the menorah, exchanging an affectionate smile with him over the little boy's head. Her eyes are mischievous, and he gives her a wink and a knowing look before her gaze settles on their son.

_"Neshomeleh, would you like to light the candle this year?" _

His head snaps up to Ziva, her own smile mirrored back at her on his face.

"Really?" The excitement in his tone cause them to chuckle, and Ziva nods, smoothing her hand over his cheek.

"You are old enough now, yes? It is your turn."

He nods importantly, his face assuming a most serious expression, and Ziva helps him get up and shuffle closer to stand before her. Her arms stretch around him to help guide his smaller hands with hers. He moves closer himself, lighting a match to hand over to the pair. Once his job is complete, he settles back comfortable on the floor beside Ziva, and watches mother and son as their faces glow against the flickering flame, enhancing the pride in each their eyes.

"Like this, mom?"

The worry in his tone punctuates with the slight shake his hand in hers makes, but her fingers curl instinctively tighter around his own, steadying him, and her voice is kind as she soothes his nerves.

"_Ken_, just like that."

His chest aches warmly as Ziva begins murmuring hushed, quiet words in hebrew against their son's ear, punctuating the end with a kiss she brushes against his cheek.

And these are the moments in which he falls in love with her, all over again, the weight of it crushing him with a force that momentarily steals his breath away.

* * *

She leans into the touch he places on her back; his hand trailing absently up and down her spine. As she turns to look at him, the look on his face warms her inside and out.

And if asked what the greatest gift of Hanukkah is, without hesitation, she would reply with _them_.


	9. I

_**I feel the need to clarify that these drabbles have no order, rhyme, or chronology. They're as random as the titles. **_

_**Also; this drabble's context is set in the months that follow Somalia, so the December of that year.**_

_**jae **_

* * *

**Impulse**

After five years of partnership and a recovery long in the making, impulse at last urges him to act.

He's tread carefully, made his way closer and closer into the folds of the defenses she surrounds herself with. An iron-dense wall around an even more armored heart, he is the only one that will be able to infiltrate the last part of herself she keeps so heavily guarded.

He's held patiently, waiting for the moment he knows the last of her resistance will crumble.

Somalia.

It's the reason for his caution; the final barrier that she alone can allow him past.

The woman he pulled out of that God forsaken desert several months ago is different from the one he knew. But he loves her all the same. And so he told himself he must be patient as the earth, unyielding in his determination, if he hoped to claim her at all.

He'll prove to her no harm will befall her if it's he whom she entrusts her body, her love, her heart.

* * *

Regardless of the December chill, she makes it through the night in the gown that emulates the sky's dark hue; a midnight blue selection sweeping below her knees, which bares just enough of her calves to attract his gaze all throughout the night.

The dress is conservative by all standards, but in the context of Ziva, it's outright bold.

For the first time since summer had past, his partner bared the first glimpse of the physical evidence of the toll her body had taken.

He spends the night marveling at her elegance, her grace. In the midst of the agency's Christmas formal, she stands tall and proud and oh so very stunning. He tells her as such, a hushed compliment uttered only for her ears alone, and she acknowledges his meaningful glance with the only shy smile she grants herself that evening. Her confidence dulls the faint marks that peek just beyond the fabric's reach, marks that intensify and grow when she stretches swiftly or twists to glance over her shoulder; flashes that make his heart tighten and fists unconsciously clench. Her hair hides what the dress doesn't; the testament of Saleem's men forever engrained across her shoulder blades and the line of her spine.

There's a light to her smile that he hasn't seen in far too long, and her buoyant mood lingers as he escorts her home. It's only once they're inside the warmth of her apartment that her demeanor shifts. The laughter in her eyes fades as the intimacy of the setting suddenly overwhelms them, and when she returns from the depths of her bedroom, sans heels and her curls gathered gently in her grasp, the line she delivers next is what causes him to at last, impulsively act.

"Would you mind?" And it may just be entirely in his head, but the soft query is loaded, layered with so many more unspoken questions. She twists so her back is exposed to him, and when she doesn't flinch at the gentle touch of his hand on her waist; rather leaning into his warmth, he reaches for the zipper, drawing it slowly down, down, down.

Impulse brings his lips to the back of her neck, his hand to her shoulder as she shimmies the sleeve down and he slips it down her arm. Impulse brings his lips down over and over on the exposed skin of her shoulder, leaving a blazing trail across her shoulder blades and spine. She frees her other arm, causing the dress to slide down her body to pool at his feet, and his eyes feast over the bare expanse of her back. She falters as the seconds stretch on, for his eyes linger silently; memorizing every mark, every line. He's brought back to reality when her hand reaches for his at her ribcage. Her nerves are tangible, and he rushes to soothe her after intertwining their fingers against her body.

On Impulse, he brings his mouth to every angry mark, willing each brush of his lips to erase the lingering pain these reminders hold.

When she pulls him over the threshold of her bedroom that evening, his eyes no longer see them. But at long last, he sees the final wall fall away in her darkening eyes as she settles underneath him, affection pouring from every pore while he hovers over her with shaking limbs and a nervous smile she leans up to kiss away.

* * *

It's impulse on that cold, December night that brings his partner deliverance; with him, she reclaims herself, all that was lost, and all that was taken.

And it's impulse that grants him the greatest gift for Christmas that year; one he would have never dare to have.


	10. J

**Jackson**

The more time they spend around him, the more they see all the similarities that Gibbs and his father share.

His eyes are all-knowing, his brilliant smile flashes with the same secret amusement, and his quiet compassion is so very familiar.

But where Gibbs doesn't pry and meddle in the personal areas of their lives, Jackson shows no restraint.

"And she can cook!" Jackson chortles from his spot at Gibbs' kitchen table, a bowl of green beans before him. He snaps the stem off another bean, flashing Ziva a smile and dipping his head to peer over his spectacles.

"You're a woman of many talents. Leroy, you better be watching out for her."

Ziva's shoulders quake in silent laughter from where stands over Gibbs' stove. She turns to smirk at Gibbs, eyes alight with amusement, and he shakes his head at both of them, resuming his careful carving of the dinner ham.

"She can take care of herself, dad. Believe me."

Ziva turns away from the stove, leveling Jackson with a wink, and comes to stand next to Gibbs with an empty serving plate. He leans over to drop a quick kiss to the top of her head, and she gives him a smile and a squeeze to his arm at the fatherly gesture.

"I'm sure she can," Jackson sets aside the bowl, and folds his hands upon the table. "But keep an eye out on all those men out there." He looks at them pointedly, "You're a pretty girl, Ziva. I'm sure you turn a lot of heads."

"That's why he keeps the rifle above the mantle." Ziva's head snaps up as her partner enters the room, a glass half filled with eggnog in one hand, and the other pulling at collar of the Christmas sweater Abby forced him into. He winks at Ziva and the two share a grin at their bosses eyeroll and heavy sigh.

"You do not have to worry, Jackson." Ziva grins as she pats Gibbs arm and comes around the counter to take Tony's glass. "Besides, there is already a man in my life."

The partners' lingering gaze is discrete enough to not attract attention, and so it goes unnoticed by either men.

"Is that right?" Jackson leans back, bringing his arms to his lap.

"That's the rumor," Tony supplies, murmuring a low thank you as Ziva comes back to hand him a freshly filled glass. As she hands him the drink, the ring on her finger catches the light in the kitchen's florescent glow, and she waves her hand strictly for Jackson's benefit.

"Mhm," She hums, her eyes brighten with childlike excitement, looking down at her right hand. "And he treated me well this Christmas."

Tony takes a sip of the chilled eggnog, his eyes lingering on the blue colored stone on her finger; the smile it brings to his face hidden behind his glass. Jackson lets out a low whistle, his eyes going toward his son.

"You better watch this boy, Leroy." He tells his son sternly, while Gibbs face remains impassive. "He a good boy?"

She glances toward her partner, a playful smile on her lips.

"Very," She assures, and Tony winks, taking his leave. She settles her gaze on Jackson.

"He's the best man I know."


	11. K

**Kairos**

* * *

_**Kairos [noun] : **meaning the right or opportune moment (the supreme moment)._

_The ancient Greeks had two words for time, chronos and kairos. While the former refers to chronological or sequential time, the latter signifies a time between, a moment of indeterminate time in which something special happens._

_What the special something is depends on who is using the word._

_While chronos is quantitative, kairos has a qualitative nature._

* * *

When he shows up at her apartment, it's clear she expected no company.

A small part of his heart aches at that.

It is Christmas Eve, after all.

But the smile she flashes him reaches her eyes, brightening her face, as she opens the door to her apartment wider; welcoming and expectant, and it fills him with warmth to know he put it there.

"Tony." She greets, surprised, pulling her fleece blanket to wrap tighter around her.

He holds up wine, a bag of her favorite Greek take-out. Her head falls to the side, causing curls to cascade over her shoulder. A small, affectionate smile tugs at her lips.

"It was the only place open tonight." He grins sheepishly, shrugging as he takes in her sock covered feet and too big sweatshirt. "I thought you'd like some company. And I couldn't waste an opportunity," he looks at her pointedly. "There's tons of classics on tonight."

She smiles shyly then, opening the door wider and nodding toward her couch.

"Actually, if you'd like to join me, I am in the middle of one you may approve of."

She takes the bagful of Greek containers from his hands as he steps past her, grinning, and watches him fondly as he starts to discard his jacket and shoes.

* * *

They're each on their third glass when Ziva finally shuffles over from her end of the couch and into his lap. His arm falls around her effortlessly, and his body freezes with surprise for only a moment, relaxing as her body rises and falls with her slow, steady breathing. Her eyes never leave the screen, _It's a Wonderful Life_ playing out before them.

Her hand stetches out to push away a take-out box on her coffee table out of her line of vision, bringing her hand back only to rest against the arm anchoring her to him.

"You know, the Greeks; they have an expression."

He pauses with his glass halfway toward his lips, glancing down at her from where he looms above her. The touch is like fire on his skin, and it flares up his arm, down his spine.

"Oh?" He murmurs, setting down his glass beside him. Ziva's eyes don't leave the screen, but he can see her attention is no longer on the movie.

"_Kairos_. A moment of time that is... meaningful. Significant."

Her thumb brushes the underside of his arm, and he stares down at her thoughtfully.

"Are they just that?" He murmurs finally, resisting the urge to reach down and brush her curls behind her ear. "Only moments?"

Her thumb pauses against his skin, and she looks up to meet his gaze; all intimate smile and molten eyes.

"I like to think they're moments that promise more."

And he thinks he could agree to that, an unconscious smile pulling at his face.

The credits flash across the scene just as she shifts to face him in his lap. It's the last thing he sees before his eyes close and her lips, warm and demanding, at last capture his.

_It's a Wonderful Life,_ indeed.


	12. L

_**i know this is a day late; a couple things came up and it was a very hectic day - my apologies!**_

_**jae**_

* * *

**Loophole**

_"Where do you think you're going?"_

She gives a start, surprised at the sound of his voice echoing through the stairwell around her. Slowly she brings her foot back from the first step toward the basement exit, turning to look at where he leans against the wall of the landing.

He grins over the red cup he holds near his mouth, smirking at her evident surprise and being caught off-guard.

"Tony," She narrows her eyes, her hand raising instinctively to brush the skin of her neck; a nervous habit she'd adopted when the Magen David necklace once hung from its chain around her neck.

Tony crosses his legs as he continues to lean against the wall, giving her a knowing look as she approaches him.

"Making a break for it already?"

Ziva smiles innocently as she comes to rest against the wall before him.

"I'm merely taking a break from the party." She rolls her eyes, shooting a pointed look through the wall they lean against.

He smiles knowingly. "Marco from H.R?"

"He has been trying to nab me as his Secret Santa for three years now." Ziva takes his cup from his hand, holding it up to her nose to sniff the contents of his beverage. She raises her eyebrows.

"Coffee?"

Tony shrugs, a smile playing on his lips as he watches her drain the rest of its contents.

"Someone has to be sober enough to drive you home." Smirking, she hands him back the empty cup, and holds up two fingers.

"I've only had **two**," she raises her hand for emphasis. "Beers. I was ready to move on to liquor, but my partner mysteriously disappeared." She lets her eyes travel up and down his body pointedly, and he stands up straight with a chuckle, reaching into his jacket with his free hand.

"Needed a quick break." He mimics her earlier excuse, crouching down to place the empty cup on the floor quickly. She looks away, smiling toward the stairwell.

The smile he regards her with is warm, and out of the corner of her eye she sees him withdraw his hand from beneath his jacket, and the neat, shiny package captures her attention.

"Is that from your Secret Santa? Who was yours?"

He chuckles, shaking his head.

"No. Gibbs was mine."

They each laugh, and she brushes her hair behind her ear, pushing off the wall to mimic his stance.

"Actually," Tony sobers, holding out the package. "This is yours."

Ziva's eyes snap up to meet his, a look of surprise wiping the laughter from her face.

"Tony, we have a rule."

He smiles, for he knows this.

They do have a rule; and every year, he abides by it grudgingly.

But this year is different from those that precede it.

His eyes linger on where her hand rises to brush against her neck again. It had been bare for so long now. At the time, it had taken him almost a week to realize that her necklace had been missing since the day they pulled her from Saleem's camp.

He presses the box into her hand, letting go only when he knows she won't push it back.

"We do," he amends, nodding his head. Her fingers tug gently at the gossamer bow, almost bigger than the package itself. "But as your secret santa, i'm obligated to present you with a gift."

Ziva's tone becomes accusing. "You found a loophole."

Her eyes flash up to meet his, familiar eyes that regard her so warmly and just a bit hesitant. It's that look that makes her own face soften, relaxing with affection as a blush slowly blooms across her cheeks.

"Go on," he urges, and carefully she pulls apart the bow and wrapping paper.

He takes the paper from her grasp, balling it up to shove into his pocket, and when he looks back toward her, her face is frozen in stunned surprise.

"Tony," she murmurs, hushed. "This is -"

"If you don't like it, there are other styles." He cuts off, his tone guarded as he observes her warily. "I just thought that it shouldn't be like the old one. It represented the past." He rambles, as she continues to gaze at the necklace in silence. "It should be new, you know, to represent the present -"

"_Tony_," his sentence dies as she looks up at him. He waits patiently as a myriad of emotions fall across her face. She settles on something that is more loving than he'd ever admit, and closes the distance between them to brush a kiss to the side of his cheek, her free palm coming up to frame his face.

"_Toda_." She murmurs, pulling back.

Silently, he reaches for the pendent in the box, unearthing it delicately from his cushioned padding. He nods for her to turn around, and she obliges. He brings the chain around her neck, brushing away her curls to fasten the necklace securely together.

He allows her curls to fall gracefully down her back, and she turns around, touching the Star of David to the center of her chest.

"Perfect fit." He muses fondly, but he looks up at her when he utters it.

She returns his gaze, her eyes warm with understanding.

"Perfect fit." She echoes, and his face break into a shy, intimate smile.

* * *

Even in the darkened stairwell, her necklace seems to glow.


	13. M

_**Obviously, M couldn't be anything else.**_

_**jae**_

* * *

**Mistletoe**

The move is strategic; calculated - even for her.

Its purpose is clear, and her motives more so.

The two agents aren't oblivious to her intentions, for every year she places mistletoe in every door frame; every corner of her lab.

Her determination for their union does not go unobserved, but it goes wholly unacknowledged as they evade her watchful gaze and knowing looks, whenever they find themselves in the lab and in her presence.

Just as she thinks another year will go by, and with it another failed mission to bring them together, she stumbles onto an intimate scene out of sheer luck and chance.

It may just be her favorite Christmas Miracle yet.

Another case keeps the MCRT well after dusk falls over the Capitol. With a long night ahead of going through evidence she's already marked and processed, Abby leaves Ziva with a sympathetic smile and careful instructions on locking up the land of Labby.

She passes Tony as he steps out of the stairwell while she heads toward the side exit, barely acknowledging his presence as she fumbles with her bag in search of her keys, walking out of the building and toward the parking lot.

She's halfway to her hearse when she slows to a stop, sighing in resignation. There are many things in her bag; and her keys are not one of them. She turns around, backtracking the way she came, swiping her badge at the bolted door to enter the warm hall of the that leads to her lab.

_"You do not have to wait for me. Gibbs asked me to stay, not you."_

The soft voice causes her to stop feet before her lab, and she frowns, listening as a familiar, deeper voice responds.

"I don't mind. Besides, I've barely seen you today. I haven't even said hello."

A small laugh comes from Ziva.

"Hello, Tony."

She slowly treads down the hall, and as she reaches the ajar door, she peeks inside.

Ziva's leaning up, her face hidden by her partner's inclined head and his hand tunneling through her hair.

Abby watches, stunned, a wide smile creeping over her face as they kiss, breaking apart after more than several seconds.

Ziva's face appears now, and the smile that crosses her face is so warm and intimate, Abby feels herself blush and fights the urge to look away.

"What was that for?" Ziva murmurs up at him, bringing her hand up to Tony's nape.

Tony's hands travel down to her sides, to her hips. He looks above him with a smirk, and Ziva follows his gaze.

"Mistletoe." His voice low, he dips his head to capture her grin with his lips again.

"And because," He mumbles between one, two; three more short, breathless kisses. "I haven't said hello."

Abby backs away as their low laughter flows into the hall, quietly retreating in the direction of autopsy, where she knows the older Doctor still remains working.

She supposes, for the moment, she can wait for just a while longer.

There's no reason to foil a successful mission.


	14. N & O

_**Well, I had to combine two of them.**_

_**jae**_

* * *

**Night Owl**

The only sound that permeates their darkened bedroom is her soft, steady breathing from beside him. Her back is towards him, and so his attention shifts between the rise and fall of her shoulders and the snow that descends outside their bedroom window. The glow of the streetlights bring the snowfall into sharp relief, and he's sure that by tomorrow morning, they'll wake to several inches of snow.

_"It will be impossible to get to Gibbs' tomorrow in this."_

His eyes glance toward Ziva's frame, where her low voice resonates.

He shuffles closer, bringing his arm around her waist, shuffling closer to hug her body.

"I thought you were asleep."

He presses a kiss to her bare shoulder, and she laughs, finding his hand on her side and weaving their fingers together.

"I have not been sleeping well for the last week." She murmurs, dragging their hands to press against her swollen stomach. "Your daughter has become quite a night hawk."

"Tony grins into her hair, her curls tickling his face pleasantly.

"_Night owl,_ sweetcheeks."

Searching for the movement below her skin, she pauses their hands and lets out a soft, "_There_."

He feels the increasingly familiar, yet no less incredible feeling of pressure push against their fingertips.

His breath catches as she untangles their hands, pressing down on his own more firmly, and more movement spreads underneath his palm. She chuckles at his reaction, the sound warming his chest.

"A night _owl_," She amends softly.

She releases his hand as he splays his fingers across her stomach, trying to follow the path of movement, and she backs herself into his chest to press even closer to him.

"Let your mom sleep, munchkin." He mumbles against Ziva's shoulder, rubbing circles across her stomach. "Santa won't come tonight if you don't fall asleep."

Ziva laughs against him, and him arm tightens around her at the feeling.

He chuckles in kind as the silence settles and they sober, and Ziva's fingers eventually tangle once more with his. Her thumb brushes the back of his hand idly, and he buries his face in her curls.

"Are you thinking about it?" Tony murmurs into her hair.

Ziva's thumb pauses, tightening their hands together.

"It is hard to believe that we will be three at Christmas next year."

He smiles into her hair, pressing a kiss firm enough for her to feel.

"We won't be sleeping much on this night for the next couple years."

She hums against him as she realizes he's probably right, and thoughts of themselves as parents of an excited, little girl on the Eve of Christmas day bring a grin to her face, as well as thoughts of the kind of father Tony was going to be; the father he already was, and she feels overwhelming affection for the man beside her flood every fiber of her body.

The movement at last stills from beneath her stomach, and they drift off as they are; their hands captured against the life they'll soon know and cherish and love with all that they have.

* * *

She's sacrificed much in this life.

A little sleep doesn't distress her.


	15. P

_**Thank you for your all's patience as I update this at random daily. And thank you to those who leave reviews; I love to hear what you think.**_

_**jae**_

* * *

**Patience**

The moment small feet hit the floor, her eyes flutter open. She blinks slowly against the early morning sunrise peeking through the curtains, and her partner's face greets her in its glow. His face is relaxed with sleep, hair disheveled and his arm draped loosely over her hip, anchoring her close to him.

Soft footsteps make their way from down the hall, and Ziva smiles in anticipation for the early morning visitor.

His eyes blink open at the feel of Ziva's nails scratching lightly up and down his arm, and he regards her with a drowsy smile.

"_Time to wake up_." She murmurs, leaning over to brush a kiss against his lips. Tony hums against her in brief indulgence, before pulling back and turning his face into his pillow.

"S'early." He mumbles, brushing his hand down her hip and pulling away to wrap the sheets around him. "We told her to wait at least until the sun's up."

She laughs quietly, brushing her hand through his hair fondly just as the sound of their door pushing open greets their ears.

Ziva glances out of the corner of her eye, and sure enough, familiar, hazel eyes peer hesitantly from behind their bedroom door at the pair of them tangled in bed. The doorknob twists as she pushes it open slowly, wider, to better see them. Ziva finally turns her head in her direction, and the little girl's face lights up upon seeing her awake. She lets go of the doorknob, pulling her pacifier from her mouth, and gives her a toothy smile.

Ziva grins, pulling her arm away from Tony to pat the space beside her.

"Good morning, _neshomeleh_."

The toddler makes her way across the room, and Ziva rolls to face the side of the bed, reaching over to help their daughter as she scrambles to climb atop the mattress.

Once up, she drops her pacifier onto the bedside table, brushing the tangle of curls from her face and crawls over to climb on top of Ziva.

Ziva smiles up at her, reaching to brush her hair behind her ears. The little girl's glance falls across Tony, his face still buried in his pillow, and she points to his head.

"Daddy sleepin'?" She attempts to whisper, but Ziva can see Tony's jaw shift in a tell-tale smile. She reaches for her hand, capturing it with hers and regaining her attention.

"Yes," Ziva whispers back, "So we must be patient."

The little girl's eyes shift briefly toward her father again to observe him solemnly.

"Long time?"

She gives her a patient smile, drawing her hand to her mouth, pressing a kiss against her small fist.

"Soon." She murmurs, and the little girl heaves an epic sigh.

"Then we get Christmas tree?" She captures Ziva's other hand.

"Yes," Ziva chuckles, "And we will decorate it tonight."

Her toothy smile returns then, and she waves their hands together excitedly.

"And daddy do the colors?"

Her voice raises several octaves, and Ziva shushes her softly. The little girl immediately quiets, shooting a worried glance toward Tony's still figure.

"_Sorry, sorry_." She whispers, freeing her hand briefly and leaning over to pat Tony's shoulder with a feather light touch. She glances back at Ziva, who tries to stifle her laughter.

"Yes; maybe you can help your father put up the lights?"

She nods, grinning, her curls tumbling free from behind her ears.

"I help!" She glances over once more at Tony. "But patient?"

Ziva hums, nodding her head.

"But patience." She affirms, and the little girl frees her hand to pat her cheek.

"Maybe we make daddy coffee?" She asks seriously, "And he wake up and we can get da tree?"

Smiling, Ziva nods, and the little girl quickly untangles herself from Ziva's hands, crawling off her body towards the side of the bed. Ziva watches her carefully as she drops to the floor, her feet hitting the carpet safely with a soft _thump_.

"Come on, momma." She tries to tug at the sheets around Ziva, and she concedes to her daughter's demand, unearthing herself from the warmth of her bed.

Once Ziva swings her freed legs over the side of the bed, the little girl turns, letting go of the sheets and hurries down the hall in the direction of the kitchen. Ziva twists to regard her partner's form still obscured by sheets and pillows, and leans back to brush a kiss to his jaw.

"You owe me," She murmurs, and feels him grin.

"Twenty minutes." He turns his head, his voice clear now as his face is no longer hidden in his pillow. Ziva narrows her eyes at his sleepy grin, but doesn't curve her smile as she presses a quick kiss to his lips.

"Twenty minutes," She agrees, pulling back and getting up from the bed. "She won't be any more patient than that."

Tony closes his eyes, relaxing once more into the covers.

"I owe you." He murmurs, and she gives him one last, warm smile just as the faint sound of _momma_ comes from far off down the hall.


	16. Q

**_Is anyone still reading these?_**

**_Eight more days until Christmas - where has the time gone?_**

**_jae_**

* * *

**Quilt**

He arrives home right on time; his flight hitting the ground just as the snow begins to fall. He's slightly unprepared for the blast of freezing air that greets him as he steps onto the tarmac; if only because he'd spent the last two weeks in the equatorial part of the globe.

He'd been told the mission would take no longer than two weeks, and was promised that he'd be home well in time before the Christmas holidays arrived.

He supposes he's fortunate; returning back with just three days to spare.

She hadn't let him go easy, and he didn't expect anything less. Not only was it their first holiday together, but it was difficult to be separated from the other when it came to missions and being in the field. They'd grown accustomed to being one another's shadow; having their eyes on the other's back, and their back alone. He doesn't envy what his partner went through, as she sat in the safety of the bullpen and under the eyes of their team, while he was off grid with sporadic means of communication available to her.

Besides, Ziva's never been one to sit idly by while others run head long into action.

And though he's been traveling too long, working hours that will leave him in a comatose like stupor for the weeks to come, he's eager to see the woman that's been achingly absent from his life.

He finds the door to his apartment unlocked, and he pushes it open easily to find his the space warm and lit and alive; as if it hadn't been abandoned for a two week period. He realizes that someone had taken the time to tidy up; he finds bills and mail straightened neatly on his counter, and the sink bare of the dishes he recalls leaving hastily piled together.

He glances around his kitchen, and finds a box of tea sitting off to the side of the stove that he knows he hadn't had stocked away, and fresh fruit piled in the bowl set out on the island.

His smile widens as he enters his living room, where he at lasts discards his luggage, and he finds several christmas albums, a few of his own personal favorites, sitting out besides his sound system, which has been moved out of the way to accompany a small, but lit and decorated Christmas Tree. An abandoned box labeled X-Mas sits beside the couch, and he wonders where she found the old box filled with remnants of ghosts from Christmas past.

And though he's discovered many surprises that night, he's not at all surprised to find her in the middle of his bed as he wanders down the end of the hall, and pushes open his bedroom door. The picture she paints warms his chest, and he leans against the doorframe as he takes her in; sitting barefoot and cross-legged against his bed frame, thumbing through a thick book with a familiar quilt pulled tightly around her. Curls fall in loose locks from the bun at her nape, and the smile she greets him with is as bright as it is loving.

"Comfortable?" Tony chuckles, and Ziva closes her book with a sharp _thump_.

"You are home." She returns unnecessarily, her eyes raking over his tired frame, while her smile doesn't falter. He pushes off the doorframe, coming to the end of the mattress and crawling over to where she scoots to make room for him.

She pulls the quilt loose from around her, opening it to encompass his frame next to her, and melts easily into his side.

He sits back with her against him, closing his eyes as he heaves a tired sigh and drops a kiss to the top of her head.

"I'm home." He mumbles, and she leans up to capture his lips properly, her hand slipping up his chest and over his neck, trailing back down again.

He pulls back to look at her, and while her lips leave his, her hand doesn't fall from where it rests against his chest.

"I see you found the Christmas stuff." He nods in the direction of the living room, and Ziva gives him a shy smile, looking at the wall behind him.

"You had not put anything out yet." Her fingers curl into his sweater nervously. "I thought I could while I was around."

He smiles at her attempt to downplay how much time she'd been spending here in his absence; he was beginning to suspect she'd been here the entire time. Her eyes come back to rest on his, and he pulls at the quilt wrapped around them.

"And you found mom's old quilt."

Ziva's smile falters, her face falling at his words.

"Tony, I did not know," She begins, attempting to shuffle the blanket off of them. "I found it in the box, I have been using it around the house because of the cold. " She's almost freed it from around her shoulder, but Tony shakes his head roughly, keeping it pulled tightly around them.

"Ziva, it's fine." He laughs, but she still watches him with a guarded expression. "_Really_," he assures, pulling her closer against him and pressing a kiss to her cheek. "Mom used to pull it out around the holidays." He recalls, and his eyes grow distant as he smiles fondly at the memory. "When we'd watch the classics she loved by the fire." He looks down at Ziva's affectionate look, and he clears his throat as he shakes off the memories from long ago. "Dad was away a lot then, so it was just me and her around the holidays."

Ziva thumbs the worn fabric between her fingers, relaxing into his hold.

"Still, I shouldn't have gone through your things." His lips are on hers then, cutting her off, and he indulges her in a kiss that's deeper than the one she greeted him with.

"You've made yourself at home," Tony murmurs after pulling his mouth from hers, and her eyes seem to darken as they open to look into his own. "I like it." And as he looks down at her soft, adoring smile, breathing in her scent and encompassed by her warmth, surrounded so very much by her, he realizes that he's never felt more at home in his own apartment than he does in this moment, here right now with her.

She finally shuffles to sit in his lap, looking up at him as his arms pull her against his chest.

"You are my home," she utters softly, almost too quiet for his ears, and he thinks he might have imagined the confession, if he didn't catch a glimpse of the shy smile she turns to hide in the crook of his neck.

He tightens his arms around her.

Because she is as much of his home as he is hers.

* * *

And it's true what they say.

He's so very blessed to be home for the holidays.


	17. R

**_Good to know so many of you are enjoying these; I hope you like the rest just as much :) _**

**_Thanks to those who review, and come over from Tumblr to leave them. You're all aces. _**

**_jae_**

* * *

**Rise**

The shuffle of her feet on the floor above echoes around their kitchen, and they share an intimate look, casting their eyes to the foot of the stairwell.

He hides his grin behind his coffee mug as a tiny face peers out from between the rail, crouched lowly as if she believes she's well hidden from view. Ziva turns around to hide her smirk, going back to the kettle heating on the stovetop. He steps around her, trailing his hand down her side as he reaches for the paper beside her, and she moves in to the touch.

"This is a record," Ziva murmurs for his ears alone. Tony grabs the paper, leaning into her neck to brush a kiss near her ear.

"She gets the early rising thing from you, _sweetcheeks_."

Ziva smiles, his stubble scratching pleasantly against her skin, and she turns her face toward his to kiss him slowly.

"Perhaps," She presses a final, quick kiss to his lips and pulls back, looking behind him with a smirk. "But _that_," she nods, "Is all you."

Ziva pulls her hands from the kettle, drawing them up his shoulders to turn his body to face behind him, and he stifles his laughter as her arms wind around him, hugging his chest.

He squints through the early morning dawn shining through the window, grinning at the sight of their daughter already dozed off with her face pressed against the bannister railing, sprawled out against the steps.

Ziva's arms fall from around him as leans toward the counter to set down his coffee, and as she turns back to the stove with a shake of her head, he whips the rolled up paper in his hand across her backside teasingly.

"She certainly didn't inherit your stealth." He smirks, throwing the paper onto the counter, and Ziva shoots him a half affronted, half amused look at his retreating back as he heads toward the stairs.

With a smile, he leans down to plug in the Christmas lights that are woven around the railings, lighting up the stairwell more so, and sets up the stairs, two at a time, and the little girl is stirring just as he bends to reach for her.

"Hey, munchkin." He groans, lifting her against his chest, and she snuggles pleasantly against him with a sigh. "That can't be comfortable."

She turns her tired face into his neck, bringing her small hand up to rest on his shoulder.

"Mmm." She mumbles, causing Tony to laugh, and he presses a kiss to the top of her head.

"How about we go put you in our bed," He says, rocking her softly. "Get a little more sleep?"

The little girl comes to life a little then, pulling her sleepy face from his neck, shaking her head resolutely.

"No sleep." She mumbles, pointing toward Ziva, who appears at the foot of their stairs, blowing gently on the steaming mug in her hand. She turns her familiar, brown eyes back toward her father. "Presents."

Ziva's soft chuckle echoes up the stairs, and Tony echoes her, hiking their daughter up on his hip in resignation.

"How about breakfast first, then?"

Relaxing, her head falls back against his shoulder, and her eyes droop as she answers softly.

"Then presents?"

Ziva greets them as he steps down beside her, running a gentle hand down their daughter's back, grinning as she turns her face to greet her with a sleepy smile.

"Then presents," Ziva assures, leaning over to press a kiss to her cheek.

"Good morning, _tatehleh_. Merry Christmas."

She stretches a heavy arm to pat her mother's cheek, and Ziva presses her warm, tiny hand against her, clasping it with her own.

"Merry Christmas, momma."

Tony allows Ziva to pull their daughter from his grasp effortlessly, still holding her tea with her free arm, and he marvels at the move as she returns to the kitchen with the little girl hugging tightly to her side.

He smirks at their retreating backs.

His girls, his early risers.


	18. S

_**Thank you to all who have left reviews over the past couple days; I didn't mean to sound like I was demanding them.**_

_** I'm glad everyone is still enjoying each daily addition :o)**_

_**jae**_

* * *

**Snow**

She was suspicious earlier when their boss had dismissed them hours before the usual time of departure for a Friday evening, and as she walks out of the mall carrying an armful of bags toward the parking lot, Ziva David is stopped short by the fresh powder of snow that greets her outside the double doors, and she narrows her eyes infinitesimally, suppressing an all mighty groan. She knows it would sound like paranoia to most, but Gibbs had certainly predicted the weather, and she would bet all the bourbon in the world he was currently sitting in his basement, smirking to himself.

For she had not made it a secret that she intended to get to her Christmas shopping this weekend, and Tony had dropped casually throughout the day that he had dinner plans for the evening. Gibbs had conceded with no more grief than a grunt and smirk, and so she heaves an epic sigh at the cosmic karma, and begins her careful trek across the icy parking lot toward her mini in resignation.

It's clear by the time she makes it to the trunk of her car that the setting sun was bringing the damp snowfall to a solid, frozen sheet of ice; and from past experience, she knew her mini wasn't equipped to handle the twenty minute commute it would take to reach her home in this condition.

She shoots a quick text to her partner as she turns her engine on, returning it to her pocket as she slowly backs out and narrowly avoids an Acura that slides around the curb behind her. Her knuckles are as white as the snow that falls heavy against her windshield by the time she's coasting past the Starbucks and shopping center across from Tony's apartment complex. She turns at a pace more tame than she's ever operated a vehicle with, and sighs in relief as she approaches the second turn onto her partner's street; a five minute journey taking nearly as long as it would have on a normal day to reach her home. Tony's already scraping ice off his car when she glides into the spot next to him, and he gives her an angry glare that's not nearly as harsh as it looks.

"I told you to stay there, I was coming to get you!" He throws up his arms, the scraper still in his hand, as she carefully steps out of her car and comes over to stand before his car on the sidewalk.

"My phone was in my pocket." She shrugs. "I told you I could make it here, just not to my apartment." She suppresses a shiver, watching as he sets the scraper on top of the roof and walking over to stand before her. He leans over to brush the falling snow from her shoulders.

"Where the hell is your coat?"

Ziva looks down quickly. "I didn't expect it to be snowing when I got out of the mall, and I was not going to carry my winter coat around the entire time." She bites down on her chattering teeth, glancing back up to see him pull his long jacket from his body, freeing his arms with a shake. The streetlights blink on then, and as he comes to wrap his coat around her, she can make out the nice, button down shirt and dress pants he's in under the emanating glow.

"Your dinner," She exclaims in realization, craning her neck to see him as he moves behind her to fix the coat around her shoulders. "You are going to be late! Go, I have my key -"

"I'm not leaving you here," He scoffs, steering her by the arm over the icy ground towards his passenger door. She frowns, tightening her hand around his waist as her foot slips momentarily.

"Why not?"

Tony leans around her to pull open his door, his hand briefly settling on her waist.

"Because, that's not what a gentleman does."

He winks, grinning, and she rolls her eyes before ducking her head to settle into his passenger seat. She blinks up at him as snow falls around his head, coating his crisp, ironed shirt, and she smiles softly back at his small sacrifice as the snow slowly seeps into the fabric.

"Your chivalry is noted." She informs him warmly, more affectionate than the teasing she intended. The intimate smile she awards him brightens his face even further, and he gives her one last wink before shutting the door carefully, making his way around to the other side.

"Where are we going, exactly?" Ziva pulls his coat tighter around her, inhaling his scent as he yanks his seatbelt over his chest.

"Celia's cooking her usual Christmas dinner tonight," Tony checks the rearview mirror, glancing quickly over his shoulder to reverse out of his spot. Ziva hums in acknowledgement, familiar with both the woman and the wife of Tony's only longtime friend from college.

"Are her and Mark okay with you bringing a guest?" She glances over at him hesitantly. "I don't want to impose..."

Tony gives a shy laugh, looking both ways before turning left out of his development, slowing as they hit a small patch of ice.

"I think they'd be more excited to have you there than me." He chuckles, coming to a stop at the intersection.

Ziva frowns.

"What do you mean?" He turns to look over at her, his eyes shining with a secret joke.

"Nothing." He shrugs, and looks back toward the road. The light changes to green, and he presses forward.

"They asked me to bring you."

She watches his face as it stays carefully blank, and while she's met them several times before, though within brief, five minute periods each, she can't seem to reason why she'd been invited to their traditional Christmas Dinner.

She hugs Tony's jacket tighter around her, getting another hit of his familiar scent, and she settles comfortably back against his passenger seat, watching the snow fall across the windshield.

"That's a thoughtful invitation," She murmurs softly. She waits a breath, but he remains quiet, watching the road with careful concentration. "Any reason?"

His reaction says more than his reply, as something affectionate and adoring pulls at the corner of his lips, but she smiles just the same.

"I may have embellished your ninja skills. They're looking for proof."

She captures his hand with the one she snakes free from his jacket, brushing her thumb over the back of his hand while his eyes never leave the road.

She thinks he knows very well why they want him to bring her along.

But she'll let him win this one. He was exceptionally chivalrous today, after all.

"I think we could give them a demonstration," She smirks, and it's then his eyes leave the road, only for a moment to regard her with a warm, adoring smile.

And in the warmth of her partner's car and presence she thinks she just may like the snow after all.


	19. T

**_Tonight I dedicate this drabble to everyone like myself suffering through final exams and the end of their semester._**

**_ My heart goes out to you._**

**_jae_**

* * *

**Taste**

She's up to her arms in batter when he enters from the room off the hall.

And he can only smirk at the mess she presents in his kitchen; a little flour smeared across her cheek, icing on her fingertips, and even on her neck. She's still wearing yoga pants and an old, college t-shirt she came across when clearing out room in his closet to accommodate her things a month back. He thinks he spies a bit of flour in a few, loose strands of curls that fall at her nape, and he watches her with a heavy gaze as she looks up from the cookies she dots with icing, because it's been four weeks now, and lord help him, he doesn't think he'll ever tire of private, domestic Ziva.

The stereo behind her croons with an old, jazzy christmas album that she's come to enjoy over the years of listening to it fill his apartment during the holidays, and her hips sway gently to the tempo, not pausing when she looks up, grinning at him with playful eyes, and licks icing from her thumb.

"Have you come to help with the holiday baking?" She teases, dropping her eyes to his bare chest and stomach. "Or have you come to taste-test again?"

He cracks a smile, shaking his head just slightly.

"I just came to see if you were done." He turns up the charm, smirking as he nods toward the hall off the kitchen. "I was about to jump in the shower, and you look like you could use one."

His grin widens as she predictably turns her back on him, though he knows in the extra sway of her hips that she's teasing him for his benefit. She takes her time setting the timer for the oven, pulling out fresh cookies and replacing them with a baking sheet with raw dough.

He's still watching her with a fond smile as she at last wipes her hands on a discarded towel, tossing it across the counter and coming to join him by the doorframe.

"I suppose I should get cleaned up," she says impassively, stopping just before him to lean into his body, drawing her hand up his chest to scratch against his skin, and her eyes follow her path.

His hand finds her hip once hers makes it to his shoulder, and he cracks a smile as he leans down to brush his lips against her neck.

"Maybe just one more taste," he murmurs, and his lips and tongue swirl against her skin. She drops her head in momentary submission as his lips pepper her neck, her jaw, below her ear; becoming more urgent and more sloppy as he reaches her exposed collarbone.

She's running her hands through his hair as he hoists her up in his arms, and her legs wrap tightly around his waist. Ziva laughs as he trips over the threshold, but he doesn't pause in his assault against her skin. She's still laughing as he walks her blindly backward to their bathroom down the hall, his own kisses becoming more distracted as her hands roam his shoulders and back, sneaking down to run under the hem of his sweatpants.

He gets her to the bathroom just as she frees her shirt from over her head, and the timer in the kitchen faintly ticks on as they turn the water on, and they disappear into a fog of steam.

While her baking is sweet, and the product tastes even sweeter, nothing compares to Ziva David.


	20. U

**_Thanks for your patience; sorry updates have gotten a bit behind. Life is busy, friends. _**

**_But school is now over. I'll have the others up soon._**

**_jae _**

* * *

**Undercovers **

Christmas lights, red, green, and white, flash brightly outside the window from the dingy, concrete building next door. It's the first thing he notices, glowing behind his eyelids as he's pulled from sleep suddenly. He's not sure what time it is, but he knows it's still early; much too early for his body to wake.

He feels a shift beside him; the bed dipping, and the protest of the motel's stiff mattress groaning under added weight. An arm curls softly over his side. The touch is familiar; the presence even more so.

His eyes open, and in the glow of the radiating lights from outside the barred window, her face is thrown into sharp relief, and a killer smile greets him that instantly warms his chest.

He thinks he'd be the luckiest man alive to wake to this sight for the rest of his days.

"What are you doing here?"

His voice comes out rough, hushed and scratchy with sleep. He reaches for her body under the sheets, and she allows him to pull her to his chest, her arm reaching to run up his back, over his bare shoulders. He hums at the feel of her nails scratching slowly across his sensitized skin, and his hands trail down her waist. He makes a low noise in surprise when his hand meets no obstruction, running down her bare thigh.

"Gibbs sent me to relieve you." She slips her bare leg between his, however, giving him an indication that she doesn't plan on him leaving quite so soon. "We might need to move location tomorrow." She informs him lowly, "McGee says his records indicate that he has plans to travel early in the morning."

Tony heaves a sigh, pulling the blankets around them tighter.

"Don't criminals have other things to do during the holidays?"

Ziva chuckles softly, leaning closer to bury her face in his neck as her laughter dies, and in turn begins kissing at the sensitive skin under his jaw. He closes his eyes at the feeling, running his hands slowly up and down her body.

"It does not appear so." Ziva murmurs between each touch of her lips, smiling into his skin. "But we will just have to make the best of it." Her leg tightens around his then, and in one, fluid movement, she rolls to settle on top of him. His hands come to rest on top of her bare thighs, and her curls tickle his face as she leans over him, all molten eyes and intimate smile, and lord help him, he wouldn't be able to tear his gaze away even if their suspect appeared outside the barred motel window.

She draws her nose across his cheek, pressing a kiss once more to the underside of his jaw.

"Sit rep, Agent David?" He mumbles, circling his thumb lightly against her warm skin.

She ducks her head to his collarbone.

"You are relieved for the next eight hours." She nips at his neck, smoothing the sting with her tongue. "I have watch until McGee arrives at zero-nine hundred."

"Hmmm." He hums, pretending to consider his next query. "So I have time to stick around for a little longer, is what you're saying."

Ziva pulls her face from his skin, giving him a sly smile.

"If you would like. It would be beneficial, I think, to have back-up."

Tony grins up at her, raising his hand to tunnel through her hair, cupping the back of her neck.

"it doesn't hurt." He murmurs, drawing her down to brush his lips against hers. "I'm sure they'll approve the overtime. We are working through the holidays, after all."

She smiles into the kiss he presses against her lips, his hands reaching for the hem of her shirt. A soft beep comes from the standard digital clock on the bedside, and both briefly turn to see the glowing numbers indicate the arrival of midnight.

Ziva returns her gaze to his, capturing his lips with hers.

"Merry Christmas, Tony."

"Merry Christmas, Ziva."


	21. V

**_Thank you for being patient, let's get caught up _**

**_jae_**

* * *

**Vow**

With two weeks to go before Christmas, they find themselves amidst the bustle of last minute shoppers that flood the downtown district of their Capitol city. But for the first time in years, he doesn't find himself to be amongst the hundreds of people in a panic, scrambling to find gifts for the loved ones that encompass his life. All of the team are encountered for, family and friends alike. And as for the most pivotal person in his life, hers may have been the easiest gift to decide on.

Accepting his change from the coffee kiosk, he turns back to the shops that line the crowded street, eyes scanning for a familiar head of curls and blue peacoat. He spots her outside a familiar window display, and smiling to himself, he takes a sip from one of the steaming cups in his hands, taking care to make his way towards her through the throng of people tracking up and down the sidewalk.

She turns her head when she feels his presence from behind her, and smiles, accepting the coffee he holds out to her. She takes it gratefully as another blast of icy wind blows against them, and brings it up to her lips to take a deep sip, shifting all of her shopping bags to hold in one gloved hand. She moves aside, revealing the display, and lowers her cup from her lips.

"My grandmother used to have a ring just like those, you know."

Tony hides his smile that threatens to fall across his face.

He knows this.

But he moves forward anyway, bending down slightly to pretend to examine the display. Antique rings of all styles and colors lay spaced out carefully from one another, many tagged for sale, while others tagged as sold.

Her finger appears against the glass before him, and he follows the direction toward a ring he has become intimately familiar with over the last several weeks, one of the few marked with a red _sold_ tag. He hums appreciatively, straightening beside her and returning her gaze.

"Someone has good taste." He nods, referring to its current status of sale.

She hums in agreement.

"It's beautiful."

Ziva's swift glance to the display is wistful, but the emotion filters across her face for only a moment. Giving him a smile, she turns her back on the display, with one last casual glance to the name of the store, and bumps his shoulder with hers.

"Are we finished shopping?"

He reaches for her bags, relieving her of the burden, and gives her an innocent grin.

"Yeah, almost. I just gotta pick something up for McGee. Wanna get the car?"

Ziva nods easily, fishing her gloved hand into his pockets to liberate his keys.

"Sure." She presses a swift kiss to his cheek, and turns to head back down to the corner of the street, and once she disappears from view, he reaches for the door of the small shop.

And while his shopping was done, her gift was what brought them out into the busy streets of the city today. It was no accident she'd found herself outside the display of rings, for he had needed confirmation that someone, indeed, had good taste.

This year the gift he would give her was everything; all that he could hope she'd accept.

This Christmas, he intended to give her a vow.


	22. W

**_Thank you to those of you who still continue to take the time to review :) _**

**_jae_**

* * *

**Wonder**

She was a mystery from their very first encounter, a wonder that will never seize, and it still holds true almost a decade later. To him, it feels more like a lifetime.

But it's a lifetime more he has to look forward to, unraveling her secrets, the layers of her life, that make her the woman he's come to love and the irreplaceable partner that she is. She's a paradox, a puzzle, an oxymoron that has him falling for her all over again most days and cursing her maddening ways on others.

The year she moves in with him reveals more of this woman, parts of her that he never knew existed, and the holidays are the catalyst.

He learns that, despite her aversion to whimsical, cheerful behavior, a Ziva at Christmas time doesn't follow her manual's standard guidelines. He finds her humming holiday songs, both english and hebrew alike, at random intervals at home. She decorates; even has several boxes dedicated to the holidays, filled with faded treasures and old memories of a time she celebrated not as a grown, americanized woman, but as a child, a sibling, a daughter; identities she has long since retired. She hangs a stocking besides their own, in memory of Tali, and while it's faded and frayed and most certainly had seen better days, he thinks it brings much more life to their mantle.

He comes home to a white poinsettia resting in an ornate urn he knows once belonged to her mother, and he'll find later, as time goes by, she will keep the plant alive for the months that follow, when winer fades to spring and spring blooms into summer.

She pauses besides the decorations that liter every store, turns ornaments over in her hands with a smile or a roll of her eyes, and the first night it snows he watches her expression fill with a childlike wonderment he's never seen otherwise appear on her face. He's mesmerized as she stands before the glass doors that lead to their balcony, where the white lights twinkle and catch the outline of the falling snowflakes in their glow.

She's an enigma by all counts, by all evidence that fills the years he's spent watching, waiting, taking each and every slow step closer to loving her. And while on some days her mysteries are overwhelming, daunting to tackle, he is above all absolutely, gratifyingly, thankful for her, and the holidays renew this irrefutable fact for their first year together, and each one after that.

She's a wonder by every count.


	23. X

**_Merry belated Christmas! I hope everyone had a wonderful holiday. It's been a crazy week, but these will be finished. Here's your next chapter._**

**_By the way; X - a very difficult letter to find a drabble word for. _**

**_jae_**

* * *

**X-ray**

After four hours of constant testing and observation, she finally succumbs to the pounding headache that's been growing since she'd been knocked silly by their suspect while her and her partner canvased their not so abandoned crime scene earlier in the day. The next time they ask her if she wants medication for the pain, she abandons her dignity and accepts the drugs without hesitation. What was supposed to be quick, routine sweep of the area before they all parted ways early for Christmas Eve, became a one on one round with their suspect while her partner had been in an entirely different area of the house.

And while she was banged up and bruised, she would still claim her pride was wounded more so, and the memory of the look on Tony's face as she was swept from the scene ached far worse than her likely fractured arm. She knows he'll hold on to the guilt for the weeks and likely, months, to follow, but she does not condemn him for what happened. They had each cleared the scene to one another, and the only way he had realized what was escalating between her and their suspect downstairs was when she had been thrown against a bookshelf, upending it from the wall. The almighty crash had sent her partner careening down the staircase, but by then she had already taken the worst of the beating.

It's under the affects of the medicine that she slips slowly from consciousness, and so she doesn't notice the arrival of another presence as her eyes slide shut. She falls asleep to the dulling ache shooting through her arm, and the tension in her head slowly alleviating.

When her eyes flutter open hours later, she's alone. But a chair now rests beside her bed; a familiar coat hung neatly over the back. A half filled cup of coffee rests on her table, and when she scans her eyes to the entrance of her room, a small, NCIS emblazoned duffle rests next to the door.

She's fighting sleep when her partner suddenly appears in the doorway; a tired smile spreading across his face as he takes in her half-opened eyes.

"Hey, they're gonna wait to run an x-ray until later," He murmurs, bending down to grab his bag and quietly make his way to her side. He sits down beside her, shuffling through his bag as she tries desperately to stay awake.

"They said you'll be knocked out for a couple more hours. They're gonna keep you over night." He frees his hand from the bag, clasping a DVD case and grinning brightly at her. "Lucky for you, I brought a few movies just in case."

She thinks she might nod, but the question on her tongue doesn't make it past her lips as she sighs contentedly, letting her eyes slip close once more.

* * *

When she wakes again, she isn't alone.

Warmth radiates from beside her, pressed against her body and under her hand. She realizes that under her touch, a chest rises and falls with slow, steady breathing. Opening her eyes, she finds herself pressed against her partner on the small, hospital cot. He has an arm slung around her, and the other keeping a laptop open steady on his legs. A soft chuckle escapes him at the scenes unfolding on the screen, and she realizes that A Christmas Story is almost half-way finished.

She curls her hand absently against his chest, and he shifts slightly, trying to look down at her face.

"How're you feeling?"

Ziva considers this, and while the ache in her arm is still strong, the pounding of her head has dulled generously.

"Okay." She murmurs, without bothering to lift her head from his side. Instead, she curls herself closer. Her eyes scan the darkened room; the window on the far side of the wall no longer glowing with sunlight from earlier, instead dark with night.

"What are you still doing here?" She turns her eyes to look up at him. "It is Christmas Eve, you should be at Ducky's."

He looks down at her, amused, and his arm tightens just slightly around her.

"I wasn't going to leave my partner alone on Christmas Eve." He chuckles, and the feeling feels good against her. "Besides, I had to make sure you wouldn't make a break for it before they finished checking you out."

He turns his attention back to the movie, still playing out before them, and he turns the volume up now that she is awake and talking. When it's clear his attention has been recaptured, she doesn't interrupt. Instead, she settles more comfortably against him, and lets the screen capture her attention as well.

"Oh, do you need more meds?" He gives a start later, casting a worried look down at her against his chest.

She merely shakes her head, a small smile on her face, and waits for him to press play on the next movie.

In his company, she doesn't notice the pain.


End file.
